Posted on | November 4, 2014 | 5 Comments
If you’re wondering where I’ve been, I have a great many answers for you. I’ve been enjoying time with family without worrying about taking pictures just to post on the blog. I’ve been working on my Master’s (which is a heck of a lot more work that undergrad when you add in babies, a husband, a social life, work, and so on). I’ve also been keeping a little secret…
That’s right! We may the decision to jump into becoming a family of three. We got pregnant a bit more quickly than we anticipated, and we are expecting baby number three to arrive late Spring of next year. It’s still pretty early (I’m sitting at about 10 weeks), but I’m already showing a little and have been sick A LOT so we decided to go ahead and share the news once we saw a happy, healthy baby on the ultrasound. We’re thrilled, of course, and maybe a bit anxious. I have to buy almost everything new because we got rid of so much of our baby stuff during our last two moves and when we thought we were done after two. I’m not looking forward to that kind of expense, but I’m sure it will be okay. We aren’t finding out the sex this time, either. If I had to bet, I’d place my money on a boy as that seems to be our pattern of behavior. We have names picked out (BUT WE AREN’T TELLING!), so don’t even try me. The boys are excited, but they both think I ate a baby. And Arlo is requesting a big brother, so hopefully he won’t be disappointed. Speaking of the boys, they are doing great but wild as ever. Sullivan started preschool, and Arlo is in the midst of the terrible threes. Please, don’t let anyone convince you two-years-old is bad. It’s got nothing on three.
Tay is great and supportive as usual. He’s had to work a bit more than we would like lately, but when he’s home, he’s home, and that’s all I need.
Oh! And I got my CrossFit Training certificate, so I’m officially a Level 1 trainer. I start coaching this afternoon. Wish me luck!
I can’t say how much I’ll be posting, but I do miss this little of space of mine. If I can eek out a few minutes here and there, I’ll be posting when I can. I miss updates from all of you, too. Now that I’m back in the midst of pregnancy and thinking about natural birth and breastfeeding and carriers and cloth diapers and all things baby, I feel like I’m back to the roots of this blog and maybe have a little more to say that relates to you, my readers. We
Posted on | July 10, 2014 | 6 Comments
Every day I see posts about “what I wish I had known before I gave birth to two testosterone filled children”. But, they have yet to touch base on the one real topic that pulls at me daily.
“I wish I had known about the dirt!” duh.
“I wish I had known about the penis obsession!” well….we all had some sort of sexual relationship with a man before children, so surely this aspect doesn’t come as a shock.
“I wish I had known how they loved cars/trucks/trains!” no. I don’t believe you.
You know what I wish I had known? I wish I had known that they would be vilified in the media, in Huffington Post articles, in grocery stores, in the day cares, and even in the grocery store check-out. Every. single. day. I wish I had known that our culture was creating an atmosphere of “man hatred” and “de-gendering” and an idea that boys and men are inherently bad and should be treated as such.
I wish I had known I would be defending them daily because they love to rough house. I wish I had known they would be deemed as “less than” because they prefer to play outside in the dirt rather than learn to read at the ripe-old ages of four and two.
I wish I had known that I would have articles forced in my face every day via social media about how to make my boys less “monsters” than they were “ingrained” to be.
I wish I had known that I would have day care workers chastise my boys about their normal behavior. I wish I had known old ladies would roll their eyes in the grocery store line. I wish I had known that typical behavior from little boys would be deemed prime candidacy for ADHD medicine and finger pointing.
Let me be clear.
My boys are very well-behaved. They are kind. They are polite. They are gentle with others. They are respectful with adults. They are loving and beautiful and make me so incredibly proud every day. But they are also rowdy. They like to jump from the highest points of furniture in the house. They enjoy splashing mud outside and water in the tub. Their attention spans are short when it comes to traditional learning, but if you engage them, they are eager to learn and eager to please. They love nerf guns and Army men (well, their dad is military…so) and catching bugs. They fear no spider. They love God, their parents, their grandparents, their friends, and yes, strangers in the grocery store lines. It’s hard for us to teach them appropriate boundaries because they want to know and love everyone.
They are wild. They are vivacious.
They are EXHAUSTING.
And yes, they enjoy being a bit obsessed with their own wieners.
They are not inherently bad.
They are not inherently evil.
I do not appreciate hearing about fathers of daughters meeting all boys at the door with a shot gun as though the unsuspecting boys’ only intention is to knock their daughter up and leave. I do not enjoy the side-eye I get when my boys tackle each other on the play ground. I think it’s too much when it’s shoved down my throat that my boys are not allowed to even so much as think about a girl without feeling guilty.
I don’t feel the need to paint their toes to make them more feminine. I don’t feel the need to force them to play with dolls. If they ask for their toes painted, you can damn well bet I’d do it. If Barbie is on their birthday wish-list, their daddy would be at Wal-mart before you could blink an eye. We want them to make their own choices. If someday, one of them tells us he is in love with another man, we will embrace his partner with open arms. This has nothing to do with wanting them to be a certain way. We want them to be their own people. Learn about themselves without gender ideas pushed upon their developing minds and without a prejudiced shoved on them before they even know what “prejudice” means.
They are BOYS.
They will be boys.
That doesn’t excuse disrespect. That doesn’t excuse unwanted sexual advances (some day…because that isn’t even on our radar now). That doesn’t excuse being physically aggressive. That doesn’t excuse unkind or hurtful behavior, and I can assure you, like most parents of boys, we are very aware of instilling morals, values, kindness, generosity, and a very healthy respect of people in our boys. We want them to be loving. We want them to build people up rather than break them down. We want them to love someone someday with such deepness that they will finally understand our marriage. We want them to grown and learn and thrive.
And we want them to do so without feeling guilty about their roughness, their eagerness, their BOYNESS.
They drive me up a wall about 95% of the day, but they are growing into these amazing little people, and I will not have some anonymous blogger or internet troll tell me that they are bad and should be restrained from their normal boy behavior. Normal does not equate to bad.
Posted on | June 25, 2014 | 8 Comments
Guess who’s home, y’all?
This handsome man!
He was supposed to land sometime around supper time on Monday evening. Instead, I got a call two hours earlier than anticipated that he was here. I had just gotten in the shower with the idea that I would take my time, put on my make up, let babies nap, and make sure my outfit was perfect. Instead, I rushed out the door with barely any make up and half-asleep babies. I was sweating like a pig, and feeling entirely overwhelmed. Traffic was horrific. One of the gates was closed to post so I had to rush around the back. By the end my nerves were shot, but what did it matter? Because….he’s still here!
Of course he’s back to work already, but we’re settling in and so glad to have Daddy home. The boys could not be happier, and while Sully has had a few adjustment issues (re: never wanting to let Daddy out of his sight and being a bit sensitive and emotional), I have no doubt that they will be back to normal within a week.
Tay and I looked at each other last night, after wondering over the surreal fact that he was in an entirely different part of the world just a couple days ago, and we both agree that while this life is hard and the separations are painful, there’s a certain beauty about being reminded to never take each other for granted and to never be complacent. Thus, begins our fourth honeymoon! Thank you to all for your thoughts and prayers, and know that I am continuing to pray for each and every one of you going through deployments and TDYs. Hang in there, y’all.
Posted on | June 20, 2014 | 4 Comments
Yesterday, I received this lovely and terrifying email in my inbox:
I promptly had a panic attack and burst into tears. Good tears. But the panic was real.
I mentioned to you awhile ago that my plan was to really dive into this librarian thing, and I took a job at our local library. I loved every minute of it, but when Tay had to head out of town, I took a hiatus from the job because it was almost impossible to work around the sporadic part-time schedule with two babies, no full-time paycheck or daycare, and having to work weekends. I miss it dearly, and I have been anxious to get back into the library ever since.
I originally planned on starting my MLIS in June if I was accepted to the Summer session, but as life goes, it got in the way. Starting this week or next would have been a nightmare with events we have coming up in the very near future. I know there’s never a perfect time, but June would have left me windswept and overwhelmed from the start, and I wanted a fresh, exciting beginning. So I requested to cancel my original application and push for a Fall semester. Two weeks after I applied, I received an email asking for a different essay from the one I originally submitted. I suppose the topic had changed. I sent in a second one the hour after I got the email, and I found my acceptance in my inbox the next morning. Now, all I have to do is send a transcript from a college where I took three summer classes and secure financial aid, and we’re all set.
I’m very excited about this new adventure, but I’m also scared shitless. I’m scared about failing. About the extra debt my degree with put on our family. About finding a job post-graduation that will make that extra debt worth it. I’m scared of how I will handle two babies, a house, a traveling husband, a neurotic dog, my passion for working out, and my sanity. But I’m going for it, and all I can do is hope for the best and work my ass off while I’m doing this thing.
Have any of you gone back to school as an adult? It’s been SIX years since I received my graduate degree. I hope some things haven’t changed. I hope I can keep up and don’t get left in the dust by twenty-two-year olds who are still fresh from undergrad.
Posted on | June 19, 2014 | 2 Comments
I found myself rolling my eyes at a few hilariously trivial things this morning, and it brought to mind the fact that when I’m in certain mood, every, tiny thing can bring a huge wave of annoyance. When I’m in a not-so-foul frame of mind, I tend to ignore life’s minor frustrations and focus on the the small victories in a day. I thought it might be kind of hilarious to share some of the things that have struck me with their annoyance hammer over the last couple of days. So, here we go:
1) Going to get a sparkling water from the fridge only to find I actually drank the last one yesterday.
2) Going into the grocery store for ONE SPECIFIC THING and getting all the way home without that thing.
3) Sitting down to eat only to have someone who has pooped and needs a butt wiping.
4) Tripping on the stupid brick in my walkway every time I have my hands full.
5) Putting all the sippy cups up in the cabinet only to have them fall on my head the minute I remove my hands.
6) Getting a phone call from an unimportant source (like, a telemarketer or “Mr. Appliance” making sure my fridge repair is up-to-par) the minute I start cooking or eating.
7) Somehow deleting an entire post/email/paragraph with the single touch of an unknown key on my laptop with no warning about the impending doom.
8) Laying down on the couch for a cat nap and getting jerked away two minutes in because someone has decided they are done napping for the day, thank you very much.
9) Going to pay for something and realizing I’ve left my debit card AND check book at home.
10) Finding hair conditioner in my ear after running errands all afternoon.
11) Dropping my entire book in the bath tub while trying to relax and read.
12) Knocking over a full cup of coffee onto my kitchen floor.
14) Having an entire box of chicken stock slip from my hand and miraculously land top down and regurgitate it’s full contents in the blink of an eye. Onto my floor that was just cleaned of coffee.
15) My dog waking me up at 3:33 AM (freaking devil’s hour) with this obnoxious, disgusting lip-smacking he does when he’s anxious because he sense there may be a thunderstorm some where in a 100 mile radius.
Now. For the good. When I feel myself slipping into a funk of frustration, I try to take a few deep breaths and look for the good. I tend to wind myself up throughout the day if I don’t take a step back, and the result is full blown exhaustion and sometimes tears by nighttime. If I can regroup, take a minute, and find some peace, I’m usually able to reign it in and look past these tiny hiccups in the day. Here are the things that have helped me through a week that has been a little emotionally draining:
1) Arlo smiling his huge smile and insisting on sitting on my lap while we watch “Paw Patrol” while absently rubbing my t-shirt.
2) Sullivan’s impromptu karaoke sessions in the back seat of my car. His enthusiasm and amazing ability to get all the words wrong to every song brings me to full-blown belly laughs every day.
3) That first sip of hot coffee in the morning.
4) The imagination on these two:
5) An unexpected, sweet, and very-much-needed email from my husband in my inbox.
6) The sound of the Skype ring on my phone.
7) Finding a piece of dark, salted chocolate that I thought was all gone.
8) The smell of Lavender scented epsom salt rising from a scalding hot bath.
9) The hour or two I get every day in the gym, surrounded by some of my favorite people, and sweating my ass off.
10) Fresh flowers picked out by my boys as a “gift” to me in the grocery store.
11) Finding the PERFECT outfit for a special occasion.
12) Having a friend insist on taking the boys for awhile because she wants to help and knows I need a little break.
13) Farm-grown peaches and strawberries and home made ice cream from a local peach stand.
14) An invite to a girlfriend’s pool and knowing it means a few hours of wonderful company and boys who will surely nap later that day.
15) A very special and much anticipated date creeping up on the calender.
So there you have it. I’m anxious and sometimes ridiculous, but I’m working hard to find grace and beauty in every day, even when I would rather just be pissed off at the world (or at least the cashier in Harris Teeter who refuses to make eye contact or say anything remotely nice). What about you? What are the little things that drive you up a wall? What are the small blessings that help bring you back down?
Posted on | June 18, 2014 | 8 Comments
Have you ever tried to do all the things and end up doing none of things? Like, you get so overwhelmed and frustrated that things that were once fun now become monotonous and demanding and just awful?
A couple months ago, I decided to take a step back from social media. I was writing two blogs, running two Facebook pages (one of which has close to 20,000 followers), and pressuring myself to take on ALL the reviews, write EVERY DAY!, and share every detail. And I had enough. I was tired of writing because it wasn’t fun anymore. I was sick of snide comments from blogger trolls who go out of their way to be hateful through the anonymity of the internet. With my husband on an extended “business trip” and my babies desperately needing me to be all the parent I could be, this blog and all my other internet obligations made me feel like I was living less in my real world and more through the keyboard, and I was not happy about any of that. If you’re a friend of mine, I’ve still be on Facebook through my personal page, mostly to share stories and pictures of the babies. And I’ve played around with Instagram here and there. But I’ve stopped reading all blogs. Stopped worrying about writing or finding the perfect pictures. And I’ve just re-evaluated.
So my step back turned into a month, then two months, and finally, today, I felt inspired to sit and share a moment with you. My house house is finally quiet (as I typed that, Sully walked out to ask me if I’d seen a toy of his when he was supposed to be asleep an HOUR ago…so), The Middle is playing softly in the background, and Jones is curled at my feet. I have a cup of hot tea sitting next to me, and for a moment I feel still and relaxed.
Since I last left off, I’ve been to the doctor to have a lump on my thyroid evaluated. After taking a sample from the largest one (which looks sort of like a manly Adam’s apple) it was determined benign. Along with it is another smaller cyst. Because the larger one is extremely uncomfortable, it has to be removed. I may end up without a thyroid at all based on the other cysts, and it’s been recommend to have a total removal. I’m uncertain about the exact plan I’ll choose.
The boys are growing rapidly and beautifully. Sullivan is an amazing big brother. He’s attentive, sensitive, kind, persistent, and me all over. He lacks patience but is thoughtful to a fault. He’s honest, trying, hilarious, and full of the funniest things to say. Arlo is still my scrappy, little, mama’s boy. He adores me and tends to shy away from others until he warms up. Even my parents and sister who spend so much time with him sometimes get the cold shoulder. Daddy is still a hero in both of their eyes (and rightly so!). He’s a talkative, stocky, and opinionated guy, and his sweet face brings me such joy every day. They are my best little friends and the most exhausting tiny people I have ever met. I am so grateful for them.
Tay is doing really well, and while I can’t share anything about him now, just know that all is well and wonderful with us, and we are so ready for the day he can join our little family here at home again. I am so grateful for a man who is strong when I am struggling and who teaches me patience and the beauty of our kind of love every single day.
I’m still Crossfitting every day. I work out 5-6 days a week, 1-2 times a day, and I’m loving every minute of it. I’m up to a 170# back squat, a 235# dead lift, and a 135# front squat. I adore the girls who work out with me every morning, and I’m so grateful for this “me time.” I’ll be sure to share updates with that, too, as I step back into the blogging world.
I also have quite a few books to share with you. I recently reread the Harry Potter series, which you should 100% read if you haven’t. I’ve developed a renewed love for the Potter crew, and I’ve enjoyed letting my boys watch bits and pieces of the movies as they show up on The Family Channel.
If you’ve followed me awhile, you know I’ve been a bit ambivalent about blogging and where this blog should go and what I should share and what I shouldn’t. I can’t say that’s changed completely, but I HAVE missed this special place of mine. Now that I’ve cut some of the fat (extraneous reviews, extra blogs, and worrying about numbers and followers), I’m hoping I can remember how to use this tiny corner of the internet as my catharses again. Thank each and every one of you who has stuck with me through the past almost SIX years, and a special thanks to those who have reached out to ask me to write again.
Anyway, I’m back, and I hope you’ll accept me and my writing as an ever-changing, ever-evolving journey.
Posted on | March 19, 2014 | 20 Comments
Let me preface this with, I love my children. I adore them. I think they are the smartest, cutest, most loving children that have ever walked this earth. And most of all, every time I look at them, I am reminded of the fact that I loved my husband enough that I wanted part of him to grow inside me for nine months, give me heart burn and stretch marks and thirty extra pounds, and then expel that child from my body and live the rest of my life terrified that something would happen to that child or that I would fail in my parenting. I was willing to spend every waking (and sleeping moment) worrying over these little beings and who they would become and how I could be the best mom I could be simply because I love, painfully and fully, love my husband and could not imagine life without children created by us.
With that being said, if one more person posts a guilty-inducing diatribe about how I should “Enjoy this childhood magic,” and “Never rush my babies,” and “Let your children run your damn life.” Or if one more person touches my hand and warns me, “Enjoys these years…” I’m going to punch someone in the vagina.
I get it. Childhood is beautiful and magical. I remember pretending I was a horse and prancing around the yard (an act that would surely win me a spot on TLC’s “Strange Addictions” as an adult). I jumped out of a two-story barn without the knowledge of my parents. I once pretended that a jar of “Gak” was actually an alien. I had sea monkeys and named them. Okay, so maybe I was just weird. But childhood was magical to me.
And you know what? My parents weren’t lenient. They weren’t overbearing, but they expected kindness of me. They expected obedience and age-appropriate discipline. I wasn’t allowed to talk back. I wasn’t allowed to be late. I wouldn’t have gotten away with a harsh word or eye-roll, and yet, my childhood was still magical.
I wasn’t perfect. In fifth grade, my best friend and I called a girl on a triple line and tried to get her to say mean things about each other. In middle school, I cheated at Accelerated Reader and got caught taking tests for my friends so they could attend the AR end-of-year party. In high school, two girlfriends and I got caught drinking. And these are just the moments in which I was caught. There were probably countless others that weren’t pretty or anything to be proud of that I just happened to slip by my parents (sorry y’all). Each and every time I got caught, my parents taught me a lesson. I learned the importance of being kind to others. I was taught the grace of forgiveness. I learned the hard line of honesty and doing what’s right. And I learned the difference between a “bit of fun,” and hurting others. And in the end? All those times I wasn’t caught, I carried the weight of what I deserved. I learned right and wrong, and I am forever grateful.
My parents didn’t have articles condemning them for “stifling” my independence. Or shaming them for raising their voices when I crossed a line. I learned the pain of hurting others. Of disappointing my family. They didn’t have someone whispering in their ear that I would be forever damaged because they asked me to “hurry up” or fussed at me for refusing to stop touching something in an antique store.
Every time I discipline my children, a tiny person whispers in my ear, “Make childhood magical!” or “Show them kindness always!” or “YOU SUCK AS A PARENT BECAUSE YOU’RE ANGRY THEY JUST EXPLODED YOGURT EVERYWHERE!”
And here’s what I think.
Let your babies finger paint. But it’s okay to teach them that painting the walls isn’t “creative expression.” It’s a good way to make mama have to scrub walls. Let them play outside, but it’s okay to snatch up a baby’s arm as he throws a fit because he doesn’t want to come in for supper. Enjoy and entertain their stories and questions, but the world isn’t going to end when you ask for a moment of silence in traffic because you can’t concentrate on driving and answering for the sixth time why firetrucks exist.
My babies are beautiful and unique creatures, and I want to grow their personalities in every way. But my top two worries as a parent are 1) keep my babies safe and 2) help them grow into adults who aren’t assholes.
Sometimes that means I have to raise my voice. Sometimes that means I have to do time out fifteen times before noon. Sometimes that means I snatch up crayons and take them away for the day. And sometimes it means we spend two hours at the playground instead of the thirty minutes I really have. Sometimes it means I spend some extra time cleaning up sprinkles from cookies decorated by tiny fraternity boys. Or I wash grass stains out of Easter clothes. There’s such a balance, it’s a fight to maintain that balance, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let one more blog post make me feel guilty for doing what I have to do to raise decent humans.
So for all you mamas out there who have read a blog from a holier-than-thou parent who feels they are qualified to explain to you all the ways you are wrong, cheers. Pour a glass of wine, and know you are not alone. I’m right here, reliving another long day, and thanking God for keeping my babies alive and my mind (mostly) in tact.
Posted on | March 12, 2014 | 3 Comments
There is one thing all CrossFitters have in common: we want to better ourselves. We want to push ourselves. And, at least at a very nuclear level, we want to compete. If you we didn’t want to compete, we wouldn’t put ourselves up against a clock, a higher weight, a faster athlete, time and time again.
The Open allows us to compete against every CrossFit athlete in the entire world. It stacks you up against your gym (or box…I just can’t get used to calling it that), against your state, your region, your country. It consists of one challenging work out per week. You have the weekend to do the work out and have your scores judged and submitted. For the top athletes, it allows them to qualify for regionals, and maybe, the CrossFit Games.
For “athletes” like me, it can be intimidating. I am the queen of self-deprecation…notice how I did the athlete in quotations? I struggle with calling myself an athlete, even though all CrossFitters are, because it seems too high a compliment for my abilities. I’m the first to laugh at my inabilities, claim I “can’t” do something, and feel tempted to skip a work out where I know I will be one of the last on the leaderboard. And the Open has taught me something.
Self-deprecation might be funny, but it sure isn’t helpful or healthy. It’s demeaning to your own self, and it, quite possibly, limits what you really are capable of doing. For example, here’s how I looked after 14.1 (an AMRAP of 30 double unders and 15 snatches).
I looked like that because I spent the Thursday evening the WOD was announced until the Saturday morning I competed to bemoan the fact that I “couldn’t do” double unders. I swore up and down that I was just going to worry about getting one rep to stay in the game, and I basically talked myself out of being able to do any sort of double under work before the clock even started. And you know what? I proved myself right. I got 24 reps. And I spent a total of ten minutes beating the shit out of myself. It was miserable, and I walked away wanting to cry. I was embarrassed and frustrated, and it was the first time I’ve ever wanted to quit a WOD.
I didn’t learn my lesson there. When 14.2 was announced and included three minute rounds of 10 heavy-ish overhead squats and 10 chest-to-bar pull-ups, I convinced myself I would only get 10 reps because I’ve never tried a chest-to-bar pull-up. Guess who got 10 rounds? And you know what? I think if I’d spent that evening convincing myself that I would get my first chest-to-bar ever, and if I went to the gym the next morning with the commitment to get even one, I just might have.
After 14.2, I went into the gym with a different attitude. I no longer “can’t do” things. I “haven’t done them yet.” Cheesy? Sure. But you know what? I did a WOD today that went something like this;
10 minute AMRAP
15 sumo-deadlift high-pulls (65lbs)
2 minute rest
10 minute AMRAP
30 double unders
15 thursters (65lbs)
I knew those thrusters would get heavy. I knew the double unders would be tough, but I chose to put the weight on my bar and not look back. I chose to skip the single jump modification and committed myself to doing double unders the entire time.
185 reps later, and I had completed the wod out as “perscribed.” I didn’t have to drop my weight. I didn’t get frustrated when I missed a double under. I just did it. And I was on a high the rest of the day.
The Open has given me a new found commitment to hard work and success that I didn’t have prior to competing. Had I chosen not to sign up, had I chosen to just do the work outs at the gym in class instead of having to post my scores to a leaderboard, had I allowed myself to take the step back and let others step up like I would have been more comfortable doing, chances are, I still wouldn’t have those double unders.
Posted on | March 10, 2014 | 40 Comments
One of my favorite things about working out is the fact that I can find cute, comfortable gym clothes that can take me from CrossFit to the treadmill to the grocery store. I am a firm believer that women should invest in a gym wardrobe. Believe me, I once was a wearer of baggy shirts and ill-fitting shorts. I followed the mantra, “Well, it’s just going to get sweaty, so who cares how I look?” and I (admittedly) mocked the women at the gym who looked “too” done-up. Now don’t get me wrong, I might still give the side-eye to a chick in booty shorts, a sports bra, and no work out going on to speak of, but I knowingly smile at the women I see in coordinating crops and tops or fancy printed yoga pants.
There’s a certain joy that comes from wearing gym clothing that fits, flatters, and manages to be super functional. NO, I’m not trying to pick up a date at the gym. I wear cute clothes because they make me feel more confident and more comfortable in my skin. If I can do squats without worrying about my pants falling down or showing my thong, then I’m a happy camper.
I’m excited to introduce you to YOGASMOGA.
On the scene just a little over a year now, YOGASMOGA was founded by inovative people who strongly believe in the beauty and power of Yoga and who strive bring it into every aspect of their lives. In a day when companies can often seem too big to be sincere and too focused on the bottom line, YOGASMOGA’s core values are a breath of fresh air:
DEEP, DIRECT AND LASTING CONNECTIONS.
We put in great love, care and devotion to create products that will delight our SMOGIs (that’s you and all of our YOGASMOGA community). We aim to touch the daily lives of our SMOGIs, building deep connections and long-lasting bonds.
A RESPONSIBILITY BASED REPUTATION.
We strive to earn the respect of our SMOGIs by constantly delivering at a superior level with everything we do. We know this respect is earned through action and over a long period of time. We take this responsibility seriously. We make real things for life and at times mistakes will happen. Our promise is to rectify any mistake immediately and proactively.
A MANTRA OF INNOVATION.
We are committed to using the most innovative and pioneering techniques to develop our fabric technology. Our unyielding commitment to using the best technologies is more than a best practice for us, it’s our mantra –– an everyday practice that yields far superior products for our SMOGI’s.
A CORE OF AUTHENTICITY.
While we labor to work with the most technologically advanced fabrics and manufacturing techniques, we pursue a relentless focus on the deep-rooted traditions of YOGA . We strive to apply the principles, practice and spirit of Yoga to everything we do, and everything we create. We hope this will bring Yoga to life in new and meaningful ways.
COLLABORATION AS CULTURE.
We inspire our people to be creative through constant collaboration. This drives us to deliver the very best, for everyone. Our people take pride in the work we do together.
EAT, SLEEP & BREATHE THE DETAILS.
We have an uncompromising determination to achieve excellence in everything we undertake––one breath at a time. We believe that if we pay keen attention to the smallest details and strive for ever-present awareness in our everyday actions, the results will show.
THE GIFT OF NAMASKÁR.
We recognize that textile production is typically done in the most challenged economic locations in the world and we feel it is our absolute obligation and duty to give back to those who have joined us on this journey. Which is why we have created the Namaskár Foundation.
While I’m not yogi (as you well know), I appreciate any company who supports women and men as they work to better themselves physically and mentally. When YOGASMOGA offered to send a top and a bottom for me to review, I couldn’t say “yes” quickly enough!
I was sent the “Classic Slimmie Pant” and the “Sneak ‘N Peek Bra.” I’ll start with the Classic Slimmie. I am usually a 6-8 in most work out clothes (remember that they usually run a bit small in comparison to your jeans and conventional brands). I decided to take a chance with the 6, and I’m glad I did. It’s compressive but entirely opaque. They are more giving than other yoga pants I’ve tried, and so they are super comfortable.
The rise is fairly high, which I happen to prefer. No plumber’s crack during squats!
I really do think they are slimming and flattering! Fitted along the hip, flat seamed stitching, and hidden pockets make it super fuctional.
They are reversible with a logo on the leg and one at the waistband so you can choose to show it off or keep it discrete. I found them very slimming in relation to some of my other pants. No muffin top!
I took them on a test run to CrossFit and put them through a work out with double unders and box jumps. I didn’t have to mess with pulling them up even once (I HATE THAT!), and so these definitely passed the test. The only complaint I had is that they tend to collect dog hair. So if you have pets, make sure you keep a lint roller nearby. I did find that after several washes, that seemed to be less of a problem. Retailing for $109, they aren’t “cheap” but I honestly think the price is well worth it, and they have Tall sizes available for you lucky, leggy gals.
The Sneak ‘N Peak bra was another great work out staple. I used to be under the impression that if you were smaller chested, you could get away with cheaper bras. But as my Target cheapies started falling apart and losing support after just a month or two of wear, I realized that even us less-endowed ladies should invest in a few good, supportive sports bras.
This high-impact bra is simple but comfortable and supportive. I went with a 6 in it as well (usually a 34B), and I found it to fit perfectly.
Thick straps, flat seams, and hidden mesh help it stay breathable, chafe-free, and it won’t dig into your shoulders.
It got me through the same intense work out as the Classic Slimmie pants, and I didn’t have a single complaint!
At $52, it’s pricier than some department store bras, but you get what you pay for. I believe this bra is a long-lasting staple to any lady’s work out wardrobe.
YOGASMOGA has several programs you might be interested in when you shop. For one, their SMOGI BUCKS program allows you to earn money through referrals. You can then spend that money on your own purchases. Right now, you can get $25 SMOGI BUCKS towards your first order, AND free shipping!
YOGASMOGA has generously offered a free top or bottom of your choice to one of my readers! Enter here:
Posted on | February 25, 2014 | 3 Comments
I love it when bloggers share what they eat throughout the day. I don’t know why. What’s so interesting about what people stuff in their mouths? But I always get different lunch ideas or ideas as to how to break my meals up to keep me full, so I thought I’d join in the party.
7:30AM-Got up and scarfed half a Larabar and half a banana. I hate bananas. But everyone says I should eat them to help avoid cramping. Whatever. I drank a cup of coffee with it, and then I had a pre-workout drink on the way to the gym.
9:00AM-Dropped the babies at the CrossFit daycare area and started warming up. The work out today was,
Warm up: 2x-30 Jumping Jacks
-30 Seal jumps
-20 Jumping squats
-20 good mornings
Goat Work for ten minutes (I chose pull-ups and did a pyramid. First one, rest ten seconds, two, rest twenty seconds, and so on).
WOD: 800m run
5 box jumps at 20″ (Rx was 24″)
9 hang cleans at 85lbs (Rx was 95lbs)
7 box jumps
7 hang cleans
9 box jumps
5 hang cleans
Whooo. It was a tough one. I think I could have Rx’d the weight, but 24″ box jumps are still scary to me. I did one before the WOD and was able to make it, but I felt pretty sure I’d slam into it by the last round, so I went with the safer choice.
10:30AM-When I got home, I gave the babies some snacks and scarfed a bowl of leftovers from the night before. I had roasted brussel sprouts, bacon, and turkey sausage in a bit of olive oil, garlic salt, and a tiny bit of parm cheese. SO good. Some times I’ll do a protein shake after the gym, but usually only if I don’t have real food on hand or if I’m feeling a bit overheated still.
12:30PM-Lunch time! I scrambled up eggs and gave the boys breakfast for lunch. It’s always a huge hit. I had two eggs, myself. I was still kind of full from my after work out snack. But two eggs in a bit of butter is always a good pick-me-up.
1:00PM-Naptime, thank the sweet Lord. I scrubbed the bathrooms and then laid down in bed for about forty-five minutes. I find that on the days I’m able to, a nice little nap really helps me get through the week.
3:00PM-Sully’s up and hungry. He doesn’t really nap anymore, but he still has to have “quiet time” in his room. Sometimes he’s less than quiet, but at least I get a little break. I cut him up a few strawberries and then make myself a half cup of greek yogurt with a drizzle of honey and a tablespoon of chia seeds. This is one of my favorite snacks of all time. I also had some Airborne because I was feeling a little bit like I’m getting a cold. Bleck.
4:30PM-Everyone’s up! Gym time again. I don’t always do two-a-days, but right now it’s too cold outside to really enjoy the park, and the boys like playing with their friends at the gym daycare, so on days like this, I go ahead and hit the gym one more time.
5:00PM-Sign the boys in and hit the bike. I did,
3 rounds of 20 second sprints, 10 seconds of rest on the bike. In between rounds, I did max sets of push ups.
Then I hopped on the treadmill and did,
Rest half the time
Rest half the time
After that, I was pretty smoked. The work out only took about thirty minutes with warm up and cool down.
6:30PM-After a quick drop by the grocery store, the boys and I head home. They requested “Paw Patrol” (I let them watch a couple episodes of their favorites shows at night while I’m getting supper ready). I fixed supper up as quickly as I could because I was starving! The boys had some roasted turkey, a few brussel sprouts, some chips, yogurt, and string cheese. They didn’t touch the sprouts. Oh well. I had leftover sprouts and a couple more eggs. This time, I added some extra turkey, a sprinkle of cheese, and some hot sauce. SO good.
After getting babies bathed, PJ’d, read to, and down for the night, I made a green smoothie with two big handfuls of spinach, one cup of grapefruit juice, and a handful of mixed berries. I usually need some sort of sweetish evening snack to tie me over until the next day. Now, I’m getting ready to brew some Sleepytime tea and call it a night.
So phew. There you go! It’s quite a bit of food, I guess, and I never feel deprived. Some days are better than others. I could have used some more veggies today, but I was feeling a little lazy in the preparation portion. Maybe tomorrow? On two-a-day days, I definitely have to eat more to help recover. I just am learning to listen to my body and feed it what it needs…not what it wants. I’ve learned french fries and ranch dressing are amazing, but they don’t do great things for me. The boys don’t eat quite as cleanly as me. I throw in some fruit snacks or a granola bar here and there for them. If I didn’t, feeding them on the go would be much more difficult. It’s not perfect, and I’m definitely not saying you have to eat like me, but if you’re nosy like me, maybe you liked this insight.keep looking »